"mountians" poems
when God created love he didn't help most
when God created dogs He didn't help dogs
when God created plants that was average
when God created hate we had a standard utility
when God created me He created me
when God created the monkey He was asleep
when He created the giraffe He was drunk
when He created narcotics He was high
and when He created suicide He was low
when He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and He created the mountians and the sea and fire at the same time
He made some mistakes
but when He created you lying in bed
He came all over His Blessed Universe.
11.9k
Humungous pupils.
Little girl.
Attempting to realize the ways of the world.
Sinning and spinning,
she twists and she twirls,
Through the tornado that fate seems to whirl.
So sure of herself,
yet quite the mess.
Eager to learn and quickly progress.
She lays awake in constant distress,
pondering humanity's stress to impress.
How on Earth are we all alive?
Buzzing around this big beehive.
Working for life then turning to dust.
Just for the honey, our bodies we bust.
Investing our trust in invented ideals.
Shunning away what's important and real.
What ever happened to "see, touch, and feel?"
We're worshipping paper, and mountians of steel.
Our slates were clean the day we were born.
From magazine pages, our knowledge was torn.
We were taught by Barbies and trucks to conform.
And we learned about love through movies and ****
But imagine a life without fiction and wealth.
We'd all be forced to act as ourselves.
Without influence or image to compare and contrast,
we'd have less confusion about how we should act.
A society raised on make believe.
Injected with *** diamonds, and greed.
Living our lives on borrowed time,
and filling the spaces with Marlboros and wine.
But then again, I'm just a girl,
with humungous pupils in a made up world.
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 7:30 PM UTC
As i run through the mountians
I have nothing on my mind
I close my eyes and breathe in
Feelings the fresh air enter my lungs
The pain and hurt slowly fades away
For nature calms the anxiety
As the sunlight reaches my face
The glow warms my whole body
I have found my nirvana
On a mountain near a waterfall
I watch the water crash against the rocks
It reminds me of all my anguish
It come slowly but falls fast and hits hard
I close my eyes and feel the wind
It blows against my face
Sending chills down my spine
For I have found my nirvana
And I do not wish to leave
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 6:12 AM UTC
The water had fallen. And then it rose. And finally, it was green again.
And it was as I descended into the river bed,
through the streams and bramble,
beneath the lush green canopy,
that my peace came back.
It was wild and alive.
And it would fill my soul to be there.
The rich smell of the soil, like something primordial and sweet,
set my memories into motion.
With each step I followed my history backwards,
eager for the lessons that the rain and wind would bring.
And I thought about what was and what is now.
And I recalled so many who had once wandered these wild ways with me before.
Those that have begun to tend their own gradens.
Rows of flowers, orchards, roses, and ivy (trained to grow along ivory latice, like castle walls).
Each thing in its place.
Watered. Nurtured.
Painstakingly cared for and thriving.
But not you.
You are still the winding creek, filled with life and lined with secrets. Ready to rush with fury and beauty at a moments notice.
You are the tall cane and alder making a canopy thick enough to halt the light.
You are the seep willow and the cottonwoods drinking the river bottom directly in to your soul.
You are the raven caw. The calling falcon. The cooing dove. The scream of the hawk. The sound of the sky in every brush stroke note of your voice.
You are the thick brush that touches each bank, powerful and unruly, like bookends to sacred wisdom.
You are the mighty things. The ring of mountians encapsulating the horizon. The clouds that lay with silent fury. The crashing lighting and the echoing thunder. The deep and silent woods.
You are not the garden.
And I prefer you wild.
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
Wasting time
shortens life.
Spending time
studying
other people.
...One's you don't
care about.
Wondering
'could you be like them.'
Succumbing
yourself
to doubt.
...doing
things,
you never
wanted to.
Telling yourself,
what you cannot do.
...Telling lies to yourself,
then saying,
that
you never knew.
...Qestioning
Life,
....rather than:
...trying,
..to find out ,
...the asnwer,
on your own.
Scolding at yourself,
...with a constant
pity tone.
If it didn't make you happy,
then it wasn't worth your time.
life won't have you,
doing over,
..mountians
you've past
climbed.
© J-d S. J
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 12:00 PM UTC
artistic strokes of a brush, mountians blue, a rivers rush,wind blown trees and daffadills, you paint the sky to meet the hill's,mixing colors gray and white, paint a cloud, reflect the light, a motionless child lost in time, artistic strokes all in your mind, reflect the earth and steal it's plunder, a rain soaked night filled with thunder. a blustery wind blows threw the trees, a ship afar on rolling seas, you see the light and paint the sun,your brilliant work has just begun, you stroke the canvas with love and pride, now we know whats deep inside.
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 10:19 PM UTC
On that day,
On that very day,
Somewhat,
Seventy years ago.
From the train,
You dangled,
Almost there hang in there,
Buck.
Almost there,
Stretch and reach,
Grab my hand,
We'll be reunited soon.
Creak and grunt,
Crack and scream,
Panic,
Fear.
Fingers collide,
Slipping through,
Rail snaps,
Fall.
That scream you screamed,
Terrified as you fall,
Farther and farther,
Screams.
"Bucky!"
"Steve!"
My screams your screams,
Gone.
Impact,
Injuries,
No light,
No arm.
Dead,
Dead in the snow,
Dead in the mountians,
No.
Seventy years past,
Seventy years ago,
Seventy years later,
Seventy years now.
A man,
Gun in hand,
Shaggy hair,
Determined face.
A man,
All in black,
Mask on face,
Metal arm.
My friend,
My foe,
My savior,
My killer.
I could never fight,
The one who gave me hope,
You gave me a chance,
Even when no one would.
I'm not gonna fight you,
I'm not gonna hurt you,
"Cuz I'm with ya till the end of the line,
Pal."
Now it's my turn to fall,
And your turn to watch,
Our turn all over again,
To watch in fear.
You gave me a life,
You gave me a brother,
You gave me a friend,
Why can't I return the favor?
You protected me,
I protected you,
You fought me,
I stayed with you.
From friend to foe,
We remain,
From friend to foe,
We stayed.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 10:37 AM UTC
Today i woke up in an old bed ,
where i spent last winter in meditation -
after having went to summer party
salad mountians and a million and one stand of food
candyfloss , fair ground ride , face painting , a band , drinks everywhere in buckets with sun block attatched to it even though it was kinda cloudy but there were nice clouds
and best - some people roaming about with a sunflower cut out taking polaroid pictures
and in them there is someone holding the sun.
(haha)
What a lot has happened today..
hmm .. i collected some old things , ate a routine breakfast of bagels and home made plum jam , with the addition of a coffee -
the subtle changes even in a few months ranges from old place to new old place
that is the distilled essence of travel and indeed a marker of journey's progression
return to an old place - to see the new, no matter how small -
in a place one thought devoid of any new textures ,
smells sights sounds and emotions
yet, yet - here is something new .
I saw an old friend
several in fact .
Family -
Families.
And then i sat down to write for a bit and drank some vanilla chai tea.
and listened to some good music and draw a little.
and that was snapshot of day snapshot of day 78739101-1
END ARCHIVE:
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 4:46 AM UTC
The sun on the hills, lighting the golden leaves and green pines,
The golden leave rustling in the air as I drive by.
My window down, the soft breeze playing with my hair,
Slightly cold but nice this fine autumn morning.
The golden leaves and green pines rush by the window on both sides,
Like golden fire in spring green branches, the leaves and needles playing.
The car rushes around the turns like a bobsled down a shoot,
Or like a snake, weaving and winding, as I speed up into the mountians.
The breeze from the window becomes too much, the pressure in my ears too stong,
So I roll it up, locking myself in the car, separated from the nature rushing by.
But the sights are still so amazing, the colours, the beauty, the leaves, the needles,
Small lakes and rushing streams, making their way downward as I go up.
Up and up I got, further in and further up, leaving civilization and noise and man made things behind,
Each curve further from the concerns of life and and worries of every day.
The golden fire recedes, giving way to more evergreens, more grass, more flowers,
Autumn being marked not by golden leaves but by dry tan grass.
The mountains are visible ahead, great sleeping giants, waiting for release,
To rise up and walk the world once more, resounding echoes of their footsteps.
But for now they sleep, snow and glaciers in sharp relief against the creation granite,
Rock so old, so massive, so permanent, in a way the human world could never be.
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 12:09 PM UTC
It's been so long since I spoke to you
And touched your side, a gentle tease.
Too long since we danced in sync
And moved beneath that gentle fleece.
Consider this, my almost love,
While we move along our separate lanes;
The world turns, the rivers flow,
The mountians climb, despite the pains.
Now I'm held beneath the moon,
I dance upon a field of green,
I found my love who loves me true,
A gentle love, my life long queen.
I'm sorry for the time I lost,
Wasting time in others arms.
With these words I banish you
And embrace my gentle lover's charms.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 6:09 AM UTC
Stale Memories Seep Into My Mind,
The Sight Of Faces So Brutal So Unkind,
Confessing The Unholy Truth Which Is Entwined,
In The World Of Blackened Sin In A Sacred Shrine
Epiphanies Swimming Inside The Confusion,
Life A Lie--Caught In An Illusion,
A Mind Weak From Climbing Hills Of Thought,
All Of The Mountians I've Never Forgot
The Pleasure Of Escape Is Reality Of Dreaming,
Though When I'm Awake My Soul Is Screaming,
Chills Race Along My Pale And Chapped Skin,
From Enemies Staring--A Deleterious Grin
Fatigue Grasping Me In Angry Fists,
My Heart Breaking--Endless Splits,
People Standing On Streets With Bottles Of Gin,
Just Trying To Forget All Of Their Sins
Stars Guide From Up Above,
Dark In The Sky--Billions Of White Doves,
Lights Shining Beautiful And Bold,
I'm Finally Fine, Believe What You're Told
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 6:21 PM UTC
You said you would
climb mountains
for our love...
But that was then..
Now you will not walk steps
to hold my hand.
Our mountain is but a puddle.
My tears now linger untrodden...
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC
A purple veil enveloped the peaks and ridges
along the mystical divide
where snowpack and summer rains
chart opposite courses toward distant seas.
Born of the ancient heave and shudder
of oceanic and continental plates,
the Rockies transfix our wondering eyes
by the spell of their arcane mysteries.
So it has been for those who carved our trails
and called their mountians by name:
Arapaho - hoh'enii
Hopi - tuukwe
Ute – Kåib
All of these good fellow journey folk
have listened to the same timeless airs
chanted by murmuring streams and cataracts
and seen hope reflected in an alpine lake.
We have heard the soaring calls of the Rockies
on either side of the great divide
We have heard the mountains’ healing presence
softly whispering us to our homes.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 9:10 PM UTC
I never gave you an answer on why you should stay,
I just gave you questions that made you walk away
Its hard find a new road to travel down,
When all these roads lead to the same place
The home of where i last saw your pretty face
You could say i miss you, but that might be a lie
This medication makes memories fuzzy
And sometimes i cant even remember you name
People say you had me at hello
But im starting to think i only loved you when you said goodbye
When you weren't mine the world crumbled ontop of me,
Left me suffocating
Sometimes i think i hate you and every memory you put in my head turned to dust the day you left
But people change and when i think of you, your face isn't your face, and your somebody new
You gave me a candle for my birthday,
That i used to burn everyday
It was wrapped in glass that made the candle last.
After we said our goodbyes
I drove for hours with the candle in my passenger seat, staring at it between the headlights shining through my window.
After crossing a bridge with mountians reaching the clouds I threw it.
With all my might, and in the faint distance i heard a shatter
But maybe that was just my heart.
You have me a package with your handwriting on it, you told me not to laugh at your chicken scratch.
I tore it to shreads and left it to the flames.
Watching it burn.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
There was a time
when you could move mountians
with your smile, and the earth
was such a beautiful bridge.
Now Ursa dips deeply into
the dark well of sky while
little sister plays hide and seek,
perishing thought that ride down with bitter cool.
How can you or I claim innocence
when we have both been here before,
shall we cast down our glance in shame
having lied through eyes of stolen charm.
Our birth is breached
as we cling tight to earlier yearnings,
and the wailing wall sounds
a whisper to the cry in my mind.
Those times when in spirit,
our fingertips would brace
prying open closed hearts
that had been slammed shut
by a life swung hard.
What fear brings this memory,
doesn't every tree stand alone
until you look below the ground.
© 2005
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 4:56 PM UTC
Writing gave me something to believe in; something to hold on to.
It gave me a purpose, when I thought there was nothing left.
It took me to unimaginable places, where I could see new adventures and new life surrounding every footstep in that direction, beautiful flowers crowding over my shoes, like it was a new rebirth for this journey.
Writing have me a mindset, one that I didn't see possible, it have me a mind that saw all colors of the world, everyday I didnt only see black and white, I saw colors flowing out of peoples mouths as they sang songs of broken hearts, I saw colors streaming down faces of greif and hate.
It gave me moments that were so cherishable, it couldn't be torn from my mind. Moments that only I could be apart of, it made me realize that; although I was alone, I was apart of something huge. Something so unspeakable, no one even knew it was there.
Writing have me sights of mountians with no end, it abled me to feel life through the trees, and to hear the words they spoke.
A pencil and paper gave me a world never thought possible.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
Did you know that any building you see
can be torn down easily
if its built on the wrong soil
If its foundations wrong it will fall down withot a fight
Like Goliath on the awesome night
And what happens if our foundation is not in Christ
We will not thrive
To be what we can be
We will be mediocre and feel pain constantly
Those superstars not in Christ behind close doors they are not alright
They will never feel the joy through Christ
They willl never be able to say
Because I have faith in him I know I can survive
They suffer and crumble till they die
And then people talk about their awesome lives
You know who is awesome?
Me
Because I have faith in Christ and I believe I fell joy
Ad I can scream Hallejuah
And know what it means
I believe in a God above all things
Who can move the mountians
Without t0ouching a thing
Who knows what I can be
And you too
Because he is the one who created you
So what happens when a car
Forgets how its made
They will try to fast
Then fail everytime since that is not their way
What they are menant to be
God made you and me
He has a plan of what we should be
I don’t know what it is exactly
But its amazing
How do I know?’I believe I have faith
That is one of the amazing things that make me me
I’m awesome
And I have my life based in Christ
My heart
My soul longs for him
And if some young man wants my heart they can go to jesus to get it
Because I believe
And I know having my life bound in Christ feels amazing
I know it sounds captive controlling and crazy but its not
Its beautiful
Loving someone and knowing someone else loves you too
Having that assurance that someone is always watching you
Guiding you
Helping you
Picking you up when you fall
Knowing souome loves you faults and all
And always forgive
That is who Jesus is
And Im based in him
Because I don’t wanna fall
And I stand tall
You should come stand too
Do what John 3:16 tells you to do
And you will be renwed
Try to make your foundation Jesus
Pray that you love Jesus and believe it
And you will not fall likte the rest
You will soar
Have you ever wanted something more?
Well that something more is jesus
He is there for you
He wants you
Hes got you
Trust him cause he loves you
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
Her name is an oceans wave
Or a tree that creaks when it sways in the wind
Its the church bells chimming together in sweet harmony from a distance
Its the singing songs of wildlife in the depths of the unknown forests
Shes a girl with brown eyes with golden specks.
Long brown hair always kept straight at the ends.
A body that everyone dreams of having, when you see her you can hear the crowd catch thier breath as she walks into the room.
All eyes on her.
She has the voice of the lullabys your mother sang to you when you were five.
She has healing hands, just as Snow White she makes everything come alive
Each footstep she takes you can see the grass grow greener and the flowers turn colors rather than black and white.
She makes sunsets look like rainstorms, and mountians look like hills.
She has laughters filled with grief and sorrow printed across her teeth.
She has this blue cloud radiating from her body, you can feel her when shes not even touching you.
Her cries are filled with dread, all the thoughts that swarm her head. Death seemed like a way out, but she couldn't bear the pain of her mother at her funeral.
Her grandparents died in the beginning of sixth grade, she said to me that one day they will come knocking on the front door saying they had a lovely trip.
She sees them in the butterflies that fly and the trees that spoke. She sees them in herself.
She has cuts on her arms and three on her thigh, i remember asking her why.
I graze them every now and then, but she doesnt seem to notice, my heart burns and breaks each time i see them.
She has eyes that sparkle but heavy bags that show her pain.
I never got an answer to my question why, just a shy smile and shake if her head.
Shes always been mysterious, never speaking the whole truth. But never confessing to a lie
She is beauty in a sunrise and she is beauty in a thunderstorm.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
he moveth
every
mountains
when
the
mountains
stand still
the
patience of
God's will
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
She told me the mountains
weren't the peaks they used to be
I chuckled,smiled and understood.
Every year the walnuts seem
farther from the tree
We took a trip down memory lane
with the hazards on
a turtles pace
nothing really seemed the same
people flew by
it's an interstate
We stopped a few times
that was okay with me
I needed my meds
and she had to ***
again and again and again
The lane is now a highway
No shoppin' at Sears
now it's just bi-way
discounts don't really mean that much
when you pay fifty dollars
for what once was a buck
So I sit back in my rockin' chair
I listen to oldies, losin' my hair
She weaves then leaves
('cause she has to ***
Everything aches where there isn't pain
but we've got each other,
and we both have canes
I love her now more and deeper
Kinda glad those mountians
aren't any steeper
I'm gettin' too old to make that climb
And she still likes my walnuts fine.
So I smiled at her
when she returned
Showin' teeth no longer mine
And I asked with a wrinkly smile
If she'd like to fool around a while
She smiled back and said "Not today...
it's gettin' late anyway."
I looked at the clock
and had to agree
It was nearly bed time
and we needed our Z's
The days make us tired
and now my drive is low gear
So it's off to sleep
(after she pees)
After all, it's after three
on a Sunday afternoon...
Roosty
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC
the waters edge
is where i stand
feet sinking slowly
in the golden sand
water is ice in a
white lace hand
salty tears from
a far off land
sun is bright
and warm is air
breeze is light
just ruffling hair
off in deeper places
dolphins play and
win races against
the curling waves
surfers sit awaiting
water graces before
leaping walking on
surf and slimline pieces
of wood and fibro foam
artfully worked into boards
of about three paces
whales swim along
the water roads
occasionally
showing age old faces
and fins and tails
in the dance of ages
birds fly high
on wind planes
dipping and diving
in order to gain
greater speed
better angles
to spear down into
water tangles
coming up with
dinner or not
spreading wings
again seeking the aloft
at waters edge
where i stand
mountians have been
broken down into sand
horizons quiver in the sun
somewhere day is starting
somewhere day is done
and still the waves seek the shore
and still the water always wants more
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 8:48 PM UTC
Lifes all about discovering just who and what,
you would be willing to move mountians for..
Aug 3, 2019
Aug 3, 2019 at 6:21 PM UTC
Insanity breeds free In this world, and yes,
Truthfully, inside of me
It touches my soul, when I least expect
It takes control
Trick is to learn to let go
Insanity
Politicians have this, this season we all know
From them it penetrates
Within our souls
Reach this realization, hand it over to
Our Father and let go
I will be set free
Insanity will not carry
For I have logic that lives inside of me
Logic is insanity's enemy
Senseless time conquers my mind
I follow my mistakes of the past
As if they are my masters
Incessantly they last
A constant battle for me to keep
My eyes and heart open and realize
God is my refuge and strength
Always in my life
In times of peace, in times of struggle
Which ever situation on the rise
~~~~~~~~~~~~W.K.R.~~~~~~~~~~~
PSALM 46:1-4
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble,
therefore we will not fear,
though the earth give way and the mountians fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam and the mountians quake with their surging.
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God
The holy place where the Most High dwells.
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 8:02 PM UTC